After The Storm
by Rabidnar
Summary: She didn't know what had possessed her to drive all the way to Chicago, but her mind wasn't exactly in a state of logical thinking. Writing this in honor of meeting Olivia!
1. Chicago, Illinois

**Disclaimer: **I do not own House or any of its characters; they all belong to Fox and all those rightful people. If I owned it, you know there woulda been a lot more Cameron/Remy scenes!

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><p><strong>AFTER THE STORM<br>** _I won't die alone and be left there.  
>Well, I guess I'll just go home,<br>Oh, God knows where.  
>Because death is just so full and man so small.<br>Well, I'm scared of what's behind and what's before._

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><p><strong>CHAPTER ONE<br>CHICAGO, ILLINOIS**

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><p>The air was cold and humid as Remy stepped out of her car and into the cheap, rundown parking garage that contained a shocking amount of other vehicles considering the condition it was in. The bottoms of her sneakers echoed across the empty area as they hit the cement and she turned in a circle to shut her door and lock it with the button on her keychain. The locks clicked and the car beeped in some sort of reassurance that no one would be breaking into it while she was away. If they did, she didn't care; it was only a matter of time until it was impounded anyway. The police only had to look at the prescriber identification listed on her brother's medical chart then track her down ten hours away to Illinois. They might have already been hot on her trail, ready to slap her in handcuffs and haul her off to prison as if having to live with herself (for however short-term of a period that may be) wasn't punishment enough. If this were a movie, they probably would have sped into the garage and heroically blocked her exit just as she was leaving – but when she turned, she was only met with a red Honda Civic suddenly honking its horn for her to get out of the way so it could squeeze into the parking space next to hers. Her feet moved before she even registered walking and she glanced at the address scrawled across the palm of her hand in blue ink. She didn't know what had possessed her to drive all the way to Chicago, only to arrive there at one am, but her mind wasn't exactly in a state of logical thinking.<p>

Whoever dubbed Chicago 'The Windy City' wasn't lying. An almost steady wind was blowing thick, heavy thunderheads across the sky and the gusts breathed freezing against her skin as she stepped out into the open. The city smelled of week-old discarded sauerkraut and sewer gas, or maybe like burned street food, such as those chicken sticks that vendors sold, left on the grill until they were charred crisp. Either way, it was disgusting and made her stomach churn. She had never been to Chicago before, but her high expectations of the place were already thrown way off – as high expectations usually were. There was just something about the place that made her visualize it being like an old black and white movie. Instead of the honking horns and shouts from groups of people, she always thought of the place having an almost eerie silence to it so late at night. The only people who would be on the streets would be those travelling home from work in the wee hours of the morning to their small apartments. It would be mostly men, dressed in black trench coats and fedoras with furrowed brows and hard, set jaws. They wouldn't look up or greet each other, not being intentionally rude, only tired, cold, and worn out – hardened from life, much like she was at that very moment. She could almost smell the smoke of their cigars and the dampness of their wool coats as she slogged along down the sidewalk, away from the busy, blustering nightlife.

It wasn't streetlamps, but neon club and bar signs that lit up the walkway. The stench of stale booze and strong, cheap perfumes and colognes assaulted her sense of smell each time she walked by one of the buildings, weaving her way around people who were wasted far too early into the night. That could have been her. The women were attractive and several of them stared at her as she eased her way by them. It would only take a few bucks and several cheap shots to cloud her judgment enough that one of them could take her home and numb her emotions for the night with Ecstasy and fervent touches. She wanted that to be her, but something drove her to keep walking. Her throat constricted and she swallowed thickly before parting her lips and breathing through her mouth. The bright colors of the signs blended together in psychedelic swirls as her vision blurred. There was a dull ache in her head that made her want to reach in and pluck out her eyeballs to ease the pain as she swiped the back of her hand across her face, smearing the wetness of tears across her skin. The rest of her body was numb from the cold; a kind of numb that she wished would engulf her mind because she couldn't shut off her thoughts. She told herself she wouldn't cry, but her eyes were already red-rimmed and puffy from so much of it. She hadn't slept in over twenty-four hours and her weary body wasn't interested in her demands.

The people filtered out as she kept walking, changing from groups of barely dressed young adults to teens dressed in black to an occasional homeless man sleeping on the curb or solitary guy hanging around near his car. She glued her gaze to the cracked pavement, trying not to make eye contact with anyone who didn't look promising. She carried no weapons and while she packed a hard punch, it wasn't something she trusted would defend her from some city bum with a gun. The apartment she was looking for was at the end of the street. It was a large brick building with a single glass door and, surprisingly, no call box outside. She gripped the cold, metal handle and pulled the door open, expecting to be met with warmth. Instead, she was hit with a sudden blast of cool, dry air when the door shut behind her. Even the smell was equally as sickening, some kind of thick, foreign food wafting through the halls – or maybe she was just too sickened to think about eating already. There was an elevator off to the right and she approached it cautiously then pressed the up arrow with her thumb. Even during the ten hour drive it took to get from West Virginia to Illinois, she hadn't put much thought into what she was going to say once she arrived. It was spur of the moment, the only place she could think to go since Princeton was no longer an option. Aside from her dad, Remy didn't have family – and she definitely didn't have anyone she considered to be a friend. She had co-workers, and one didn't show up at a co-worker's home in the middle of the night.

Her reflection in the stainless steel elevator doors disgusted her. There were heavy, dark circles under her eyes and the corners of her lips were twisted into a permanent frown. She looked older. The attempts she made to straighten out her grey t-shirt, wrinkled from driving, were futile and she sniffled loudly then rubbed at her nose. The doors opened, relieving her from having to look at herself, and she stepped into the elevator then slouched against the wall and pressed the button for the fifth floor. The doors closed again and her chest felt heavier with each floor the elevator reached. By the time it got to five and she walked out into the hall, her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that she might not have even been able to hear an explosion. She curled her quivering hands into a fist and dug her nails hard into her palms, dragging herself down the tan mosaic carpet as quietly as possible until she reached door 508.

Her posture was stiff and her shoulders hurt from the tension, making it difficult to commit to knocking fully. Her knuckles tapped the door quietly before she dropped her hand back down to her side and retreated back a few steps. There was no light to be seen through the cracks of the doors. Maybe no one was home. There was silence aside from the sound of her own breaths creating clouds of moisture in front of her face. Her lips pursed together and she tried to inhale through her nose. Her sinuses felt clogged and continued to drip down the back of her throat; yet another reason, aside from shame, she hated crying. Her hand found a small desk in the hall and she gripped it for support as she turned to leave. Her ears were met with the sound of quick footsteps before she could get anywhere though.

The apartment door opened and it took Remy a few moments but she finally turned back around, face to face with a very groggy and confused looking Cameron.


	2. Three's A Company

**mauraraydor: **I haven't given up on this story. I've just been reallllly busy! It will be continued! It's one of the few stories that I actually know where I'm going with. Lol.  
><strong>Shananigan: <strong>Thank you!  
><strong>Protect My Lonely Heart:<strong> I've been trying to write chapts for them, but my muse is still hiding. I won't give up on my determination to find it. This game of hide-and-seek is definitely getting old though!  
><strong>Athyna DaughterofPosiedon: <strong>Thanks! At this point, I'm hoping I can just fake being inspiring. If it gets chapters out, I'm good with pretending.  
><strong>CheshireRyan: <strong>Thanks! Love your name and profile pic, btw!  
><strong>Ang: <strong>...I love you. Haha. You write just fine! If you didn't you would end up like P!Cam and N!Cam. xD  
><strong>Crazy Rikku Fan: <strong>Thank you! You are very kind. Meeting Olivia has changed my life. I definitely urge you to go out of your comfort zone to achieve a dream. You realize that the possibilities for yourself are endless.  
><strong>esuedros:<strong> Thank YOU for reading!  
><strong>crazyheart101:<strong> Olivia is an AMAZING person. If you have a chance to meet her, I definitely recommend doing whatever you have to. Meeting her was a huge struggle for me and I would have never put myself out of my comfort zone for anyone else - but it was worth it. I'd do it all over again 50x if I could.  
><strong>She's Hearing Voices:<strong> Thanks you so much!  
><strong>Normal-is-Overratedx: <strong>Thank you, thank you, thank you!  
><strong>sgiambra22:<strong> I have no idea how long this story is going to be. I know where I'm going with it, but I haven't really planned it out chapter by chapter, if you know what I mean. I imagine it will be a decent length though.  
><strong>Nightlancer600:<strong> I have never been to Chicago. I researched other people's thoughts on it and twisted them into my own words. I'd love to visit there though to get a taste of what it's like for this story - but, unfortunately, it's rather far away. Also, I know exactly where I'm going with this story now!

So...yeah...it's been forever. Sorry, guys! I have to say that meeting Olivia Wilde changed my life even more than I could imagine. She showed me that nothing is beyond my reach. I'm relatively stable now, holding a job (that I'm at so much, I practically live there), and fighting tooth and nail to make something of myself. I haven't given up on writing. Olivia has just given me the courage to fight and open myself up to the idea that I am a capable person.

Anyway. This chapter has been beta'd by the amazing Vanamo - as usual. Someone needs to fix my terrible sentence structure and inform me that people can't read my mind. So, props to her! Remember to review after you're done reading!

Also - if any of you awesome photo editors want to take a shot at making photo covers for any of my fics, I'm willing to give you tons of credit and love you forever!

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><p><strong>AFTER THE STORM<br>**_I won't die alone and be left there.  
>Well, I guess I'll just go home,<br>Oh, God knows where.  
>Because death is just so full and man so small.<br>Well, I'm scared of what's behind and what's before._

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><p><strong>CHAPTER TWO<br>****THREE'S A COMPANY**

It occurred to Remy about a half of a second after Cameron opened the door how flawed these circumstances really were. Had she been on the other side of that door, she might have slammed it in her face. No, she _would_ have slammed it in her face. Then she would have retreated back to bed with some Ambien to cool her hatred for PPTH, with no concern about the reason Cameron had shown up out of the blue. She tore her eyes away from the solid tan wall she found herself staring at just in time to see similar thoughts seemingly turning the gears in Cameron's head. Cameron didn't bother to mask the look of confusion or distrust on her face – maybe even a hint of disgust had etched its way into her features. They both knew that all people and events linked to Princeton Plainsboro led back to one thing and one thing only: House. Remy thought about lodging her foot between the door and the wall followed by some sort of outburst about how it _wasn't_ about House, but the door wasn't moving and she had too much pride for a display of desperation. She wasn't desperate – only low on options. Silence echoed through the hallway and when Cameron suddenly arched her brows, Remy realized she was waiting for her to explain the reason she was standing outside her home, as if they were old friends.

Remy's throat felt as though it had been stuffed with cotton. She found it ironic that Cameron looked like the vulnerable one of the two, slouched against the door with all of her thoughts and feelings clearly written across her face while Remy, now standing straight up, struggled to put on a mask and come up with a few vague lines that would be enough to gain some trust and be let inside.

"I quit," Remy quickly spilled the first thing that came to her mind. It wasn't entirely true and it didn't even come close to summing up the reason she was currently in Chicago, Illinois, dragging Allison Cameron into her mess. But it only took uttering those two words for Cameron's brows to lower and her features to soften – and Remy couldn't say she was surprised. Allison Cameron had always come across as that type of person – disgustingly forgiving of everything as long as it didn't compromise her morals. It was suddenly hard to tell whether the warmth she was now feeling was coming from the woman's apartment or radiating off Cameron herself. If the truth came out, it would probably have been a lot colder. She had to look away before confusion turned into pity and she made a few ambiguous hand gestures, searching for a deeper explanation that wouldn't end in a call to the police.

Cameron pursed her lips together and Remy could see the internal argument she seemed to be having with herself out of the corner of her eye. The silence was rather unnerving and Remy began to wonder if she was ever going to reply. "Does he know you're here?" Her voice was rough from sleep, edgy with concern. The words caused Remy to snap her head back in that direction.

"Who? House?" Or maybe she meant Chase. Either way, she was taken aback by the question.

There was no way Cameron could have known she had started talking to Chase after she left, but judging by the sudden silence she didn't know which one she was talking about any more than Remy did. Remy shook her head and the answer was true for both of them. "No one knows." They weren't about to track her down either. If House hadn't found her by the time she left West Virginia, he wasn't going to find her in Chicago – especially not with Cameron. "Look," she tried to assert herself. She took a moment to breathe and search for words. "I know I'm not…"

"You must be freezing," Cameron cut her off as if it were a sudden realization, "I'm sorry." Remy wasn't sure whether she was apologizing for interrupting her or for keeping her out in the cold but she forgave her and let it go the moment the door opened wider and she had enough room to step inside. "You know you're not what?" she urged her to continue.

"…someone you'd expect to show up at your door in the middle of the night," Remy filled in and took a few small steps inside. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms and swore she felt Cameron's fingertips on her back, guiding her in before she shut the door behind her. It had been a sense that Cameron's apartment would be cozy and a place to collect her thoughts that had drawn her there as opposed to a lonely hotel room (along with the lack of room fee), but her expectations being met sent a flash of panic straight through her chest. Her breath caught and she turned on instinct, ready to make a beeline back to the flashy lights and self-destructive ways of comfort that she was used to. Why had she come here? She knew what to do with herself in those situations. Cameron was blocking her exit though – standing in front of the door, obliviously rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

"No," she agreed, "but I'd rather you than someone else."

"Touché," Remy responded and looked up again as Cameron stepped away from the door. They didn't know each other very well – or at all really, but Remy could honestly say she'd have preferred if Cameron showed up at her place as opposed to House. She eyed the doorknob for a moment before looking down at the light grey carpet with specks of blue that covered the living room floor. The choice of floor color coupled with the white furniture made the place look almost too clean and she gave the door one last look before slipping off her sneakers, feeling as though she was already overstaying her welcome in a place where she didn't belong. Cameron was overly welcoming though for someone whose apartment was being invaded by someone she had probably hoped to never see again. She looked curious and only mildly annoyed to have been woken up. Of course, all doctors were used to being woken up in the middle of the night. Remy tried to sniffle and scrub at her aching eyes as subtly as possible. The internal dialogue was doing nothing for. The silence was deafening and the seconds were beginning to feel like hours. She tried to focus on the subtle chattering of her teeth as she pressed her toes into the carpet and hooked her thumbs through her belt loops. Cameron seemed to be taking her in and Remy cleared her throat, grasping for a reason to take the attention off of herself. "Your wallpaper is nice." She mentally facepalmed.

Cameron quirked a brow then cracked a smile and breathed a light laugh that cracked the tension.

The corners of Remy's lips turned upward and she diverted her eyes back to the floor, shaking her head at herself. "That was pathetic." She looked up again, fighting back a smile.

"Yeah," Cameron agreed. She glanced around the room for a moment before taking a step toward an archway that led to the kitchen. "Come on. I'll make you some tea to warm you up."

With one last glance at the door, Remy followed a few steps behind her into the kitchen. The tiled floor was an unwelcome, cold change compared to the carpet in the living room. She pulled out one of two chairs at the kitchen table then took a seat and pulled one of her feet up so she could wrap her arms around her leg. Cameron's kitchen was even smaller than her own, but it had more of a homey feel. There were jars of spices on the counter, a candle in the middle of the stove, and pictures of landscapes taking up what would be empty spaces on the walls. Maybe too homey, Remy thought. She lowered her head and rested her chin on her knee, staring at the back of Cameron's head as she opened a cabinet and began digging through it. "Do you need help?" she asked.

Cameron pushed herself up onto her tiptoes and knocked a closed salt shaker onto the counter. "No," she grunted and gathered several boxes of teabags before lowering herself down to flat feet again. She laid the boxes out on the counter then turned back to Remy. "Which flavor?" she asked with an exhale.

Remy read the boxes from where she was sitting, wondering who kept anything other than regular or chamomile tea in their cupboard – neither of which she saw. Better yet, she wondered who kept _ginger peach_ flavored tea. "As _tempting_ as a few of those look, I'll go with cinnamon," she deadpanned and nodded in the direction of the cinnamon tea. As Cameron grabbed a cinnamon teabag and a vanilla one, which Remy supposed was for herself, Remy absently picked at the fabric of her jeans and continued to absently observe the kitchen. There were multiple appliances, a few of which looked useless, and a sunflower theme that made her feel like she was in the middle of a field rather than in the heart of Chicago. Cold, windy Chicago. Her eyelids felt heavy and she lifted her arms higher so she could bury the lower half of her face against them as Cameron began to heat water in a kettle.

Cameron pulled two white mugs off the wall rack above the sink then placed them on the counter and turned around to face Remy as the water continued to heat up. "Did you bring a bag with you?" she inquired.

Remy lifted her head and looked at the floor then back in toward the living room. "It's in my car," she answered, just now realizing she had been so focused on what she was going to say to Cameron and so sure she was going to be turned away that she had simply left her things in the parking garage. "I parked it a few blocks away." She considered getting up and going to get her things at that very moment, but she knew if she left, the chances of her returning were slim. "If you let me stay, I can just crash in this for the night." She motioned at the clothes she was wearing. Her t-shirt and jeans weren't comfortable to sleep in, but they were better than venturing back out into the cold.

"You can't sleep in your clothes," Cameron admonished. "Look at the goosebumps on your arms. You need something warm."

Remy was about to argue that a blanket would suffice, but Cameron had already pushed herself away from the counter and was on her way back through the living room like a woman on a mission. She was lucky she was cute because her determination to be caring was irritating. Remy considered meeting it with a teasing _'yes, mother'_ but the kettle began whistling before she had the chance to open her mouth. She leaned back on the chair and watched Cameron disappear down the hall then climbed to her feet and walked over to the stove. After a fraction of a second studying the dials, she turned off the burner then set to work on removing the teabags from the packets and pouring the water into the mugs. The combination of cinnamon and vanilla wafting through the air was heavenly. As she waited for the tea to brew, she picked up one of Cameron's useless appliances and turned it over in her hands, trying to figure out its purpose. Her only clue was the Phillips Avent logo, which sounded vaguely familiar, probably from a commercial. Heaving a sigh, she pursed her lips together and put the thing back down on the counter then picked up her mug to warm her hands before turning and venturing back into the living room. She lifted her mug to her lips and swallows a small sip of the tea, suddenly paying a bit more attention to her surroundings when a folded blanket with teddy bear print on the back of the couch caught her attention. Her eyes landed in a small swing in the corner only seconds after. She held the mug with both hands, trying to process the information, then slowly lowered it to the coffee table as she realized Cameron might have more than just a baby sleeping in the next room.

Cameron walked back into the room with a nightgown folded in her arms. She stopped a few feet from Remy and followed her gaze, a smile playing on her lips. "Do you want to see her?"


	3. Brahms Lullaby

**Yanto: **Well, this chapter will tell you just that!  
><strong>Athyna: <strong>I know the feeling. I felt like writing some Cadley and had the muse for this fic and I forgot all that I had written and had to reread it before writing this chapt. Hopefully that doesn't keep happening.  
><strong>Normal: <strong>I plan to finish this! I will finish this fic if it kills me. Even if I lose all my readers for lengthy amounts of time between updates. I really like my idea for this fic and do not want to let it die. And about the kid; I have done a few fics where she had been pregnant now. I thought I'd skip past that on this one. I thought I needed a fic (aside from WBND) where she had an actual child.  
><strong>Emma<strong>: First of all, welcome to the House fandom! Second of all, I'm glad you enjoy my portrayal of the pairing.  
><strong>Post: <strong>Thank you! Meeting Olivia was definitely amazing. I'm glad you like the story. It's one of the few I have that I actually still am interesting in writing.  
><strong>Complete: <strong>Thank you, thank you, thank you!  
><strong>Sky: <strong>Thank you. Who wouldn't love Remy right away! x3  
><strong>Shananigan: <strong>Thanks!  
><strong>Myshipsank: <strong>You're not the only one who didn't see it coming. The title coulda meant anything! A child. As husband. A hamster. I'm glad you're enjoying the story.  
><strong>Brit:<strong> I don't plan to abandon it! Just...be slow with it because life is busy.  
><strong>89: <strong>Thank you so much.  
><strong>Hillary: <strong>I'm glad you're enjoying it!  
><strong>91: <strong>Well, unfortunately my update wasn't exactly speedy. But it's better than nothing, right?!

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: **I still have yet to abandon this fic! I really really really do plan to continue it. I hope at least some people are around to read. There are some of you still around, right?! I am REALLY sorry that it has taken me so long to update. Life has just been dramatic and busy and sometimes I forget to slow down and do what I love. Or I try and I get dragged away. But I had some free time, so here is an update for you! Please remember to review as your reviews mean a lot to me!

Also - I have an offer for you lot. I am doing a complete rewrite of SF and I'd like my readers to get involved. I'm also possibly offering a prize to the person who helps me the most. For more information, you can contact me on AIM (xvivalastarbucks), Twitter (rabidnar), Tumblr (rabidnar), or email (rabidnar at gmail).

I hope you enjoy the following chapter! Even though it is unbeta'd. I apologize for any mistakes. I'm sure there are about two million typos.

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><p><strong>AFTER THE STORM<br>**_I won't die alone and be left there.  
>Well, I guess I'll just go home,<br>Oh, God knows where.  
>Because death is just so full and man so small.<br>Well, I'm scared of what's behind and what's before._

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><p><strong>CHAPTER THREE<br>BRAHMS LULLABY**

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><p><em>Do you want to see her?<em> The words sounded foreign and Remy blinked. "I'm not good with kids," she blurted out then caught herself. She had been in Cameron's apartment for a matter of minutes and already she was earning herself a swift kick to the exit. "But yes." _No. _She gave a brief nod. She didn't know quite what her aversion to seeing Cameron's child was. Maybe it was that she was now no longer screwing up only Cameron's life, but another innocent person had just been added to the mix. A baby, at that. Her regret was growing, along with the urge to turn and bolt out the door. She reached down and picked up her mug again, taking in the warmth against her palms. It reminded her that she didn't want to go back out into the cold and that one night couldn't hurt. She tore her gaze away from the swing to look at Cameron. She was still disheveled from sleep but suddenly had a glow to her now that this kid of hers had been brought up in conversation. But the look in Cameron's eyes told Remy that it wasn't just pride that had brought on Cameron's question. There was pity and Remy thought maybe she was trying to make her feel more welcome to get her to settle down a bit. She realized she was still shivering even though she was now warm. "I'd love to," she added with a forced calm tone.

Cameron pressed her lips together in a warm smile and nodded toward the hall. "Come on," she insisted then began walking. She watched Remy for the first few steps then turned to look where she was going.

After one last tentative glance toward the front door, Remy trudged after her. She dragged her feet along the carpet to slow herself down even more. She felt out of place. It seemed as though Cameron had already grown comfortable with her presence now that she trusted House wasn't hot on their trail. But Remy was now sure she had made a mistake in showing up here. She took a long sip of tea and stopped just inside the open door to Cameron's bedroom. She noted it was the only room in the hall and that the dim nightlight shining in a room off to the side must have been the bathroom. She stared off for a moment before Cameron turned on a lamp on her nightstand. The room lit up and drew Remy out of her thoughts.

The bedroom was just as clean as the living room – except for Cameron's unmade bed. It was a reminder that Remy had woken her. The grey comforter was pushed down to the bottom of the bed and a matching pillow was resting on the floor. The pastel coloured crib and changing table brought life to the room as they stood out against the blacks and whites. She watched Cameron lean over the crib and adjust a knitted pink blanket. From where Remy was standing, the only thing she could see was the blanket and a tiny bare foot. She was about to make herself comfortable and slouch against the doorframe before Cameron turned to her with an expectant look on her face.

"She doesn't bite," Cameron pointed out. She folded her arms over the top bar of the crib then leaned over to rest her chin on them.

_Yet_, Remy wanted to add. She inhaled and straightened herself up. _It's just a baby, Thirteen. _She had never had trouble dealing with small children at the hospital – but something about seeing them outside of the professional setting bothered her. She walked inside and placed her mug on the nightstand beside the light. The moment she put it down, she realized her mistake and hoped Cameron wasn't going to offer to let her hold the baby. After barging into her house in the middle of the night, she knew she wouldn't be able to bring herself to say no. She rounded the crib so she was standing shoulder to shoulder with Cameron then looked down at the child tucked inside.

The little girl was the spitting image of Cameron – except for the thin, wispy _brunette_ curls on her head. But if Remy wasn't mistaken in her PPTH gossip, Cameron had not always been a blonde. The moment she made herself visible to the baby, the child's big blue eyes shifted from Cameron to Remy. She was sucking on a Carebear themed pacifier that fell out of her mouth when she yawned.

"How old?" Remy asked. She watched Cameron's fingers as they smoothed down an out of place curl on the baby's head then replaced the pacifier in her mouth. The baby's gaze broke away from Remy and she looked back up at her mother again. Her tiny legs kicked a few times and she made a gurgling noise.

"Three months," Cameron answered and looked up at Remy. "And the father isn't Chase, if that's what you're wondering."

Remy pursed her lips together. It hadn't gone unnoticed that the room had been empty aside from the baby. She had a million questions turning the wheels in her head – but she held them back. Cameron didn't exactly seem like the one-night stand type. It was possible that the father was at work. Whatever the case, it was none of her business unless Cameron wanted to tell her. She stared down at the little girl, meeting her eyes again, not sure what to say to Cameron. "She looks just like you," she offered then tried to lighten up, "Hair that looks like she stuck her finger in a light socket and all."

Cameron rolled her eyes. She pushed herself up straight then turned to face the mirror above her dresser. "That is _not_ what my hair looks like," she huffed indignantly and brushed her fingers through her wavy blonde locks. She turned her head side to side to see what was out of place then put her hand on her hip and turned to face Remy. "You got me out of _bed_," she accused.

A smirked tugged at the corner of Remy's lips. She suddenly felt more comfortable. "You could try sleeping with dryer sheets," she teased, "Might help with the static." Truth be told, Cameron's hair looked fine. Mostly. It could stand to have a brush taken to it.

Cameron gaped at her. She gave her a once over then arched a brow. "You could try driving with them," she sputtered.

Remy looked down and assessed her wrinkled clothes. She looked up at Cameron again who appeared rather proud of her comeback. "Touché," she answered with a nod of agreement. Her smirk had grown. She rubbed her hand up and down her arm and looked around the room again. "What's her name?" she asked, her voice taking on a softer tone again. She looked back down at the kid who made a cooing noise at her.

"Harper," Cameron answered. She turned and adjusted the baby's blanket again. "Harper Grace." She picked up the nightgown, which she had placed folded over the bar of the crib, and offered it to Remy. "This was all I could find."

"That'll be fine," Remy assured her and took the pajamas. "Thank you." She took a step back with one foot then motioned toward the bathroom. "May I…?"

"Go ahead," Cameron answered and nodded her head. "I'll see you in the kitchen." She ran her fingers through her hair again then began twisting the knob on the mobile above the crib. The bears that hung from the mobile began to spin in a circle and Brahms Lullaby drifted through the room.

It took Remy a fraction of a second to realize she was staring and not moving – still taking in her surroundings and the knowledge she was finally not still alone in her car. She pursed her lips together and turned to walk into the bathroom and change.

xxxxx

The nightgown that Cameron had given her came to her mid-thighs. She was sure that on Cameron it went down to around her knees. But Remy couldn't complain. The soft fabric was more comfortable than her jeans, which she had folded and placed neatly on the bathroom counter (along with her shirt). She adjusted the thin black straps across her shoulders then let herself out of the bathroom into a now dark bedroom. Music was still drifting from the mobile and Remy tried to be as quiet as possible as she tiptoed back over to the nightstand for her tea. Harper seemed oblivious to her as she sneaked around the crib. The baby's eyes were drifting open and shut and she was sucking rather intently on her pacifier. Remy watched her as she walked by then exited the room with her mug in hand.

The moment she stepped into the living room, she noticed that the couch had turned into a makeshift bed. It looked welcoming. But she made her way into the kitchen where Cameron was now sitting on the countertop and holding her own mug. Remy stopped near the kitchen table and looked at her tea. It was nearly gone and getting cold. "Your place is small," she pointed out. She hoped she didn't sound insulting. She just wanted to place the conversation on Cameron. "Rumor had it you were living with your parents."

"So why'd you quit?" Cameron jumped straight to her point. She didn't seem to have any interest in Remy's observations – or, if she did, they were something that could wait. She rested her mug on her knees and leaned forward slightly so her arms were on her legs.

Her question was something that Remy hadn't quite come up with an answer to yet. They both knew that anyone working for House had every reason to quit. But actually doing so was easier said than done. If she had been given much of a choice, she would have still been working at PPTH. She shrugged her shoulders and searched for words. She searched for a lie. "I guess I just wasn't happy," she answered and shook her head. She could feel Cameron's eyes drilling into her. Her throat felt dry. She didn't like to be put on the spot.

"So let me get this straight," Cameron said and leaned back. She sounded almost amused. "You quit working for House and drove halfway across the country to the apartment of someone you barely know for happiness?"

"I drove here because I knew this was the last place he would look for me." Remy could hear the defensiveness in her own voice. It was more like the last place the _police_ would look for her. She placed her mug on the kitchen table. "And because I know you know what it's like to finally walk away."

Cameron's gaze shifted so she was looking into the living room. Her jaw hardened. Remy looked to see what she was staring at, but there was nothing but a wall. They both stared at it. It took a moment before Cameron softened and looked back over at her then lowered herself down off the counter. "It doesn't get easier, if that's what you want to know," she said. Her tone didn't have the bite that Remy expected it to. It was bitter and made her wonder if she had struck a nerve with her excuse for showing up. Although she hadn't left on the same terms that Cameron had, she was sure they both had an equal longing to return. The desire to be on House's team was not something that she could put into words. Remy continued to stare at the wall as she took in Cameron's words.

Cameron took Remy's empty mug and placed it in the sink. She turned on the water and began to rinse out both glasses. "You look tired," she pointed out, keeping her head turned to the side so she was watching her house guest.

Remy parted her lips and looked over at her. "Yeah," she answered simply. She ran her hand up and down her bare arm. She stared at the running water until Cameron shut it off. The dishes were placed in the dish rack to dry. Remy furrowed her brows. "What time do you leave for work in the morning?" she questioned. She assumed Cameron still worked at a hospital. She had decided not to stick around for long, but she could do with some sleep.

"I have the day off." Cameron dried her hands off on a dish towel. She crossed the kitchen and stopped in front of Remy. "Get some sleep. You're welcome here as long as you want, Thirteen." She reached out and briefly squeezed her arm then flipped the light switch beside her. The ceiling light turned off but the light above the stove remained on. "You know where I'll be if you need anything."

Remy didn't watch her as she left the room. She stood staring at the kitchen table. She could feel Cameron's touch lingering on her arm and the comfort made her a little unsure of what to do with herself. She finally realized that her exhaustion was getting the best of her and she forced herself to straighten up not long after Cameron was out of sight. A breath of air left her lips as she turned and dragged herself back into the living room then dropped down on the couch. It felt like a cloud compared to the seat in her car. Her eyelids drooped and she slowly lowered herself to her side then curled up under the comforter that Cameron had provided for her. She was sure that after she got some sleep, she would wake up in the morning with a better perspective on how she was going to deal with her circumstances.


	4. Time

**Yanto: **Hopefully it won't take three months from now on! And thanks! I don't know much about babies, so I could also totally just be getting this all wrong.  
><strong>Esuedros: <strong>I'll dive more into Remy's personal life...eventually.  
><strong>Normal: <strong>Thanks! Hope you keep enjoying it!  
><strong>Shananigan: <strong>Stupid uncontrollable circumstances. Don't they know that updating fanfic is important?! Heh. Anyway. Thanks! I definitely plan to unveil their situations soon.  
><strong>Park: <strong>Or you could be right. -wink-  
><strong>Wild:<strong> Thank you!

I was going to save this for next week, but since there is a Frankenstorm scheduled to hit where I live head-on, I figured I would at least give you another chapter before I drown from severe coastal flooding. Enjoy! Remember to review, 'cause reviews make me update faster (providing I survive the week!) I cut this chapter off a little short at the end, but I really just wanted to get it up before the storm hits. (...ironic how I couldn't wait til AFTER the storm.)

* * *

><p><strong>AFTER THE STORM<br>**_I won't die alone and be left there.  
>Well, I guess I'll just go home,<br>Oh, God knows where.  
>Because death is just so full and man so small.<br>Well, I'm scared of what's behind and what's before._

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><p><strong>CHAPTER FOUR<br>****TIME**

* * *

><p>A car alarm was going off and someone's child was <em>screeching<em>. Remy pulled a pillow over her head to block out the noise and the light. It hit her about two seconds into her futile attempts to fall back to sleep that where she was was too noisy to be her apartment in New Jersey. She briefly considered she might still be in West Virginia before it sunk in that she was in Illinois. She was at Cameron's place. That explained the scratchy couch and the crying baby. She pressed her palm to her eyes and exhaled a sigh as the vehicle outside ceased its obnoxious honking. But the baby was still bawling and Remy wondered what the hell Cameron was _doing_ that she allowed it to cry for this long. _It sounds like you're killing the thing, Cameron, _she thought and groaned as she shoved the pillow off her face. She forced herself into a sitting position and stretched her arms up over her head before noticing the pink sticky note attached to the coffee table. She lowered her arms then picked it up.

_Thirteen,_ her name was scrawled across the top in big bold letters. She wondered if Cameron even knew her as anything other than a number. She stifled a yawn and scrubbed at her eyes to try to rub away the blur that came from sleep before continuing to read.

_Thirteen,_

_Ran out of diapers. Baby is sleeping. Be back in an hour._

_~Allison_

Remy lowered the paper back down to the table and shot a look toward the hall. _So much for sleeping. _Her lips parted and she looked at the front door then back to the hall again, at a loss. She hoped to God that Cameron had written that note an hour before. But then again, she didn't want her host walking in to find the _stranger she trusted with her baby_ sitting absently on the couch as the child wailed loud enough to put the neighbors on alert. She ran her fingers though her disheveled hair as she climbed to her feet and walked on autopilot back to Cameron's bedroom. Her hand was still resting on the top of her head as she pushed the door open then stopped in the entrance. She hadn't thought any further than just walking into the room. But she had to do something before the kid burst a lung. Fuck, she regretted sleeping over. She snatched a plush rabbit off the dresser then shuffled over to the crib and peered down at Harper. The baby's face was covered in tears and red from crying.

"Harper," she cooed, trying to grab the baby's attention. Her voice was still hoarse from sleep and not at all soothing. She cleared her throat and rattled the toy in front of Harper's face. This caused Harper to stop crying. She stared up at Remy with wide eyes, her lower lip trembling threateningly. Panic was welling up in Remy's chest as she searched for what to say. She bit down hard on the inside of her lower lip then wiggled the rabbit again. Harper screeched.

"Please, don't cry," Remy begged. Her words were useless. "Look, Kid, your mother is going to walk in and think I'm back here pinching you or something." She dropped the rabbit at the foot of the crib and shot a nervous glance out of the room. She was going to leave, but she didn't want to leave on bad terms with Cameron. She couldn't say she particularly cared what Cameron thought of her, but she _was_ on the run from police and she _had_ barged into Cameron's house in the middle of the night. She carefully eased the baby up into her arms – being careful to support her head. Did three month olds still need head support? She couldn't remember, but she did it just in case. Upon being picked up, Harper stopped crying immediately. She blinked and looked up at Remy, who sighed audibly in relief.

"Now what do I do with you?" Remy murmured and lightly patted Harper's back. She looked around the room before making her way back toward the living room again. "Cameron should have left your instruction booklet in case you woke up."

Harper grinned and let loose a squeal at the sound of her voice. Her tiny hands batted at Remy's hair for a moment before grabbing a handful of it and shoving it in her mouth.

Remy groaned as her head was yanked to the side. It became obvious that the baby didn't need head support when she began bouncing up and down, trying to gather more of Remy's hair to eat. This was Cameron's payback for waking her up; Remy was sure of it. She tried to gently unclench Harper's fist to free her hair as she made her way into the kitchen. At least the bottle-warmer had instructions clearly printed on the front of it. She only wished the baby had the same. She gave up on getting her hair back and used that hand to open the refrigerator and grab one of the bottles. This was _not_ how she intended to start her morning.

Somehow, Remy managed to place the bottle in the warmer and keep from dropping the squirming baby on her head. The tiny foot kicking her directly in the stomach hurt more than it looked like it would. She inhaled and hoisted Harper up higher so she would at least be kicking a different area for a moment and waited for the milk to warm up. "Your mother is revenge-driven," she muttered, even though she knew that wasn't the case. She heard enough about Cameron to know that she had been the nicest person in the entire hospital – aside from Wilson. But thinking the opposite made her feel better about the situation. As she continued to wait for the bottle, she opened one of the cupboards above the sink and looked for food. "I bet she reads Old Mother Hubbard to you every night," she added when she noticed the cupboard was bare.

Harper finally pulled Remy's hair of her mouth, but kept a tight grip on it. She grunted and blew a few spit bubbles at the woman holding her. Drool slid down her chin.

"I feel the same way," Remy answered and shut the cupboard door. She turned off the bottle warmer. It felt as though it as at an okay temperature, but she dripped some onto her arm just to be sure. It occurred to her that she was probably squirting her wrist with her ex-coworker's breast milk. Her cheeks flushed as the situation felt worse than it was and a scowl etched itself permanently across her face. She used her foot to push out one of the kitchen chairs then took a seat and adjusted Harper in her arms. She had never even so much as babysat before, yet, here she was, trying to feed a three month old. "Here comes the train?" she tried and placed the nipple of the bottle against Harper's lips. The baby latched onto the bottle and let go of her hair at the same time. Remy fought the urge to wipe the drool from her hair because both of her hands were now busy. She dropped her head against the back of the chair and looked down her nose at the child in her arms.

Harper gave her a toothless grin and made a gurgling noise before she resumed drinking.

"Okay, so maybe you're a little cute," Remy caved. She lifted her head again and kept eye contact with Harper. The baby was staring at her rather intently as she listened to the sound of her voice. "I can't believe I'm having a conversation with an infant." This earned her another grin and an even more enthusiastic gurgling noise. Of course the baby would find her predicament funny. She beat her head back against the chair again and closed her eyes.

xxxxx

Cameron couldn't return home soon enough. Remy straightened herself up and turned to face the door when the lock clicked the knob turned. The door was pushed open and Cameron let herself in. She was carrying about ten grocery bags – most of which she dropped on the floor upon entering. She turned around and shut the door behind her.

Remy had used her time alone with Harper to prepare an entire speech about how she may have overstayed her welcome, but she was _not_ a nanny. She placed the empty bottle on the table and got to her feet as Cameron turned to face her – ready to speak. "That is a lot of diapers," she blurted out and looked at the bags. So much for a speech.

Cameron turned away from her and surveyed the clear grocery backs on the floor. She picked up one that was filled with bread and eggs then grabbed another that contained produce. "I thought you might be hungry," she replied and began lugging the groceries into the kitchen.

"For diapers?" Remy deadpanned.

Cameron looked confused.

Remy smirked.

Cameron seemed to brush off the comment and began to empty the groceries onto the kitchen table. "Was she any trouble?" she questioned and looked over fondly at Harper. "I didn't expect to take so long." She seemed rather frazzled as she crossed back through the kitchen to grab more bags from the living room. "The hospital called about missing paperwork as I was on my way to the store and I had to track down who put it in the wrong spot. Then the self-check outline was broken and all the other li-"

"Breathe, Doctor," Remy cut her off. "She was fine. Let me help with those." She scanned the area for somewhere to put Harper before remembering the swing she had spotted in the living room the previous night. She carried the baby over to it then situated her safely inside before turning to help gather the other bags that were on the floor. She picked up the remaining three and carried them to the kitchen with ease. "I can't imagine trying to shop and carry a baby around at the same time." She pulled a few cans of soup out of one of the bags and placed them on the table. "But I could never even find time to shop and deal with House at the same time." She set the other two bags on the table and looked up at Cameron, who was just staring at the groceries. "You okay?" she questioned and quirked a brow at her.

Cameron's head shot up when she realized she was being addressed. "Yeah," she answered and nodded her head after a moment. "You were saying something about House and shopping?" She gave Remy a smile that seemed sincerely warm but slightly forced then pulled the bread out of one of the bags.

Remy blinked and rubbed the back of her neck. She moved her hand and absently scratched her head then opened one of the cupboards to begin putting things away. She opened her mouth to tell Cameron that she planned the make her leave after lunch, but Cameron began speaking first.

"Do you think all mothers feel like this?" she asked. Her voice had taken on a more somber tone.

When Remy turned around, she was staring at the groceries again. She looked around as though Cameron was going to start confiding in someone other than her. "Like what?" she asked. Her words were rushed because she didn't know what else to say. Not only wasn't she a mind-reader, but she had never exactly been someone's listening ear before either. She wasn't good with feelings.

Cameron made an ambiguous hand movement before looking up at Remy. "Like there's not enough _time_," she answered. Her voice cracked. She licked her lips and looked around then began to make herself busy by putting groceries away as Remy just stood there staring at her. She seemed to regret her words. Her lips pursed together and she lifted the bread to place it in one of the cupboards.

The more she looked at Cameron, the more evident the dark circles under her eyes became. Remy brushed her fingers through her hair and looked around the kitchen again before making a choice she knew she was going to regret. She walked across the floor in only a few steps and took the bread from Cameron's hands then put it in the cupboard herself. "Well, there's enough time for you _today_," she stated.


	5. Deal

**Crazy Rikku Fan: **Thank you for reviewing! I hope you enjoy this chapter also!  
><strong>Athyna DaughterofPosiedon: <strong>Hopefully my updates will become more speedy. I have a muse problem.  
><strong>She's Hearing Voices: <strong>Thank you! Hope you enjoy the chapter!  
><strong>Yanto: <strong>-sheepish smile- I hope you don't have to wait 3 months again.  
><strong>Esuedros: <strong>Well, I have no idea what being a mom is like, so I'm just going off my feelings of having 2 dogs. I feel your judgement right now.  
><strong>Hodges and figgis: <strong>I try to write longer chapters, but I'm not good at it. But just think, if the chapters are shorter, you're going to get more of them.  
><strong>Shananigan: <strong>Thank you!  
><strong>Nightlancer600: <strong>I'm sure it won't be the last time she's dealing with the kid on her own. I do love to torture Remy.

Much thanks to my wonderful beta, **Vanamo**, who thinks that I am italics-happy. If she only knew that I emphasize everything I say when I speak also! No _wonder_ no one ever wants to talk to me!

* * *

><p><strong>AFTER THE STORM<br>**_I won't die alone and be left there.  
>Well, I guess I'll just go home,<br>Oh, God knows where.  
>Because death is just so full and man so small.<br>Well, I'm scared of what's behind and what's before._

* * *

><p><strong>CHAPTER FIVE<br>DEAL**

* * *

><p>As Remy removed a large, plastic spoon from a pan of soup on the stove, she wondered how she had gone from fugitive to housewife in a matter of hours. Cameron had finished putting half of the supermarket in her cupboards and had gone to take a brief shower, once again leaving Remy alone with the baby – and, even worse, with her thoughts. She turned the burner on low and licked the spoon then tossed it in the sink. Her eyes kept flickering toward the front door, and she honestly didn't know what was stopping her from leaving – aside from the fact that she really had nowhere to go. And that she was probably wanted for murder. She could feel a lump forming in the back of her throat and she quickly grabbed the spatula and flipped over two grilled cheese sandwiches to keep herself occupied. As unlikely as it was, she hoped if she just kept pushing everything from her mind that it would suddenly not be real. She toyed with the idea that House had drugged her and she was dreaming just to keep her emotions in check. It worked for a moment because it amused her that she was using the thought of being <em>drugged<em> by her _boss_ as a source of comfort.

Not that House was really her boss anymore. Her story might not have been what she told Cameron it was the night before, but she could still kiss her future on House's diagnostics team goodbye. Hell, her entire career as a doctor was over now.

Harper babbled from where she was safely situated in her swing and grabbed at a plush bear that hung from a mobile over her head. The noise caught Remy's attention and she put the spatula down again then turned off the burner. She sighed and watched the baby for a moment then rested her elbows on the counter and pressed her face against her hands. Nothing about showing up at Cameron's was going as planned. Not that she had much of a plan to begin with. But if she did have one, this wouldn't be it.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Remy lifted her head to see Cameron wandering into the living room. Her hair was dripping onto the light blue sweater she had been wearing earlier and she sat down on the couch to finish putting her socks on. It occurred to Remy how seldom she realized her coworkers had lives outside the hospital. "About what?" she asked as though she had no idea and turned off the other burner. She had taken it upon herself to locate the tableware while Cameron was out of the room, and she opened the cupboard to pull down bowls and plates. She felt as though she was invading, but Cameron didn't seem to mind.

"House," Cameron supplied. She stood up again and adjusted the sleeves of her sweater as she made her way into the kitchen. "That's why you're here, isn't it?" She opened the right drawer on the first try and pulled out two spoons.

It would have been too much for Remy to think after their brief talk last night that Cameron would just let the subject go. She made a vague circular motion with her hand then pressed it flat against the counter. "There's not really anything to say," she replied.

"You could tell me why you're evading," Cameron answered. She grabbed the spatula and shifted the two sandwiches onto the plates. She took a step over to pour the tomato soup also as Remy stepped out of the way. "You don't just _quit_ out of the blue when you work for House. Something had to happen."

"Yeah. I got sick of putting up with his shit," Remy answered too quickly. She could hear the defensiveness in her tone. Her palms were starting to sweat and she knew she should have come up with a good story on the drive there. She straightened up and tried to regain her composure. "Do you always pry like this?"

"I don't know. Do you always show up at unsuspecting coworkers' houses in the middle of the night?" Cameron retorted. She tilted her head and poured the soup into the bowls. It occurred to Remy how long she must have dealt with House to be so calm about people invading her space. "Look." Cameron put the pot back on the stove and turned to face Remy. "You obviously came here looking for some kind of help. Maybe I could help you if I knew why you were here."

_Help._ Remy's mouth felt dry. She tapped her fingers on the counter and looked out the window to the street below. She could just catch a glimpse of the road at an angle. The rest of it was blocked by the wall of another apartment building. Somehow, in the car, she had convinced herself that showing up at Cameron's wasn't a sign that she needed _help_. She just wanted a place to stay the night. She could have just as easily slept in her car. She swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the feeling of Cameron's eyes boring into her. "You know, I should probably go," she stated.

"No offense, but it doesn't seem like you have anywhere else _to_ go." Cameron took the bowls off the counter and placed them in the kitchen table then returned for the plates. "Whatever he _did_ to you, he's probably done it to me too. I did work for him for how many years."

Remy briefly wondered if Cameron was dense or still just really caught up on House. She continued to tap her fingers and took comfort in knowing that it stilled seemed as though House had caused her entire predicament. It didn't even seem to dawn on Cameron that everything was a complete lie. She exhaled slowly and stared at the cars that passed by as she slowly wove together a story. "You have to tell me something first," she said, trying to buy herself a little more time.

Cameron arched her brows and looked taken aback. "Okay?" she responded unsurely as she took two glasses out of the cupboard.

"Who's the father?" Remy asked the first question that came to mind. She thought maybe mentioning the baby would get Cameron talking for a while, and she didn't expect the brief answer that she was given.

"My ex-husband," was all Cameron replied with. She placed the glasses on the counter then opened the refrigerator. "What do you want to drink?"

"Your _dead_ ex-husband?" Remy inquired. She internally cringed when she realized how harsh that had come out. She cleared her throat and turned to look at Cameron. "House thought Chase made you destroy his semen." That didn't come out much better.

Cameron turned her head to the side, her expression flat. "Your turn," she responded. She pulled out a jug of water and Remy realized she hadn't answered her question about drinks, but water was fine.

Remy inhaled slowly and walked over to the table. "We had a patient come in complaining of chest pain," she said and pulled out a chair then took a seat. She watched Cameron pour their drinks then pursed her lips together and traced circles on the table with her finger. "It was late. The rest of the team had already gone home." She shook her head. "I read her chart and she'd been presenting symptoms of asthma. House wanted to admit her because he had a, a _feeling_ or something. But I was tired and I was sick of playing his games. So I changed her medication and I sent her home."

Cameron had placed the food and drinks on the table and had turned to look at Remy, engrossed in her story.

"She showed up the next day – feeling worse. House read her chart and pointed out everything I had missed. Then he diagnosed her with Lymphangioleiomyomatosis." Remy shrugged her shoulders.

"That's a common misdiagnosis," Cameron pointed out. "One time, I-"

"He _knew_ what it was, Cameron," Remy cut her off. She was rather impressed by her own acting skills. "He knew it wasn't asthma and he still let me send her home. I'm done screwing with people's lives like that."

Cameron exhaled and looked down at the table then slowly pushed a plate, bowl, and a glass toward Remy. "I'm sorry," she said quietly and took a seat across from Remy.

Remy poked at her soup with the spoon for a moment – briefly caught up pretending that Cameron's apology was for the truth of what had happened. "Yeah," she said, her voice taking on a softer tone. She forced a smile. "Me too."

xxxxx

"Are you sure you want to leave so soon?"

Remy stepped out into the living room from the hall – happy to be dressed in her own wrinkled clothes again. "You're asking me to stay?" she asked and arched a brow as she tried to straighten out her shirt.

Cameron was sitting on the couch with Harper on her lap. The baby paid no attention to either of them, content to be stuffing the end of Cameron's shirt sleeve into her mouth. "I don't want you living out of your car or a junky hotel until you find a place to stay somewhere," she answered, her forehead wrinkled in concern. "Plus, I'm not going to lie and say I couldn't use some help around here."

"So you're trying to hire me as your nanny," Remy corrected.

"What?" Cameron's eyes widened and she looked taken aback. She quickly shook her head. "No, that's not what I was implying. I was-"

"Relax," Remy cut in slowly. She grinned. "I was kidding."

Cameron shut her mouth again and shifted back against the couch cushion. She clenched her jaw and looked to the side before looking back up at Remy again. "I just know what it's like not to have a place to live, and I don't recommend it," she said.

Remy bit back her curiosity and refrained from prying – considering she had admonished Cameron for prying into her personal life earlier. She shifted her weight so she was leaning mainly on her right foot and looked toward the door.

"I'm not asking you to take out a lease," Cameron assured her. "I'm just offering you a couch to sleep on and food to eat until you figure out where you want to go."

Remy bit down on her tongue. The only place she was going was prison if she didn't take some time to figure out what she was going to do. She could think about it from her car, she assured herself. There were public libraries to access where she could research how to get out of her predicament. Maybe she could find someone in Chicago who could help her change her identity. She didn't know if that was the route she wanted to take, but it was still an option. She had to consider everything – even just turning herself in. She slowly lifted her hand to rest on her arm and rubbed it as though she was cold. Did she really want to drag Cameron into her mess? It would only be for a few days.

Cameron leaned her head back against the couch cushion and tilted it to the side. "I didn't know making a decision to spend a few nights with me was that hard," she stated. "I don't bite either, you know," she added, referring to what she had said last night about Harper. She shrugged. "Unless you're into that."

The last part snapped Remy out of her thoughts in a hurry. She blinked several times then turned to face Cameron and gaped at her. "What?" she all but sputtered, startled. Her mouth suddenly felt dry.

Both women's cheeks flushed red.

"I was making a joke," Cameron explained quickly.

They fell silent again.

Remy ran her fingers through her hair and looked at the door again, realizing that she couldn't just stand there in the middle of Cameron's living room all day. If she stayed, it might at least save her some money. "Okay," she said finally and nodded her head. "But," she added quickly and turned her head, looking at Harper, "You have to at least _warn_ me before you leave me with your munchkin."

The corners of Cameron's lips twisted into a warm, closed-mouth smile. She brushed her fingers over the top of Harper's head. "Deal."


End file.
